


I Shouldn't Hope To Know

by ezwra



Series: Your Hand In Mine, So Still and Discrete [FREEWOOD] [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Violence, gavin is dumbass. next question
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 06:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezwra/pseuds/ezwra
Summary: The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the songThere's no plan, there's no kingdom to comeBut I'll be your man if you got love to get doneNo Plan - Hozier





	I Shouldn't Hope To Know

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WORK IS BASED SOLELY OFF OF FANDOM REFERENCES AND CHARACTERISATIONS. I am writing this to rt/ah guidelines as best as I know them. I do not know of their in video personas as I havent watched regularly since 2014. These are characters based on / referencing real people, but are not those people.
> 
> these keep getting shorter and less edited (and less freewood lmao) but tomorrow will be the longest of them all!!!

After the party, things seem… they haven't deteriorated, but it isn't really the same.

That’s what ryan is thinking as he drives through the streets of los santos. He slides his Zentorno into an alley, and looks to the passenger side, “you ready?”

Michael nods, face grim as he settles his hand on his gun, “coms check,” he lifts his hand and touches the ear that ryan can't see, “check?”

“Check,” ryan says, pulling his mask on and adjusting his mic carefully, “see you later, space cowboy.”

Michael laughs gently and they both climb out of the car. Ryan adjusts his holster and walks around to the front of the building, while michael crosses the street and goes to the back door. He sighs gently, kicking the front door open.

“You keep sighing, V, and you’re gonna blow the house down,” michael says, voice tinny through the coms, “is it about the party?”

Ryan raises his brows and has to consciously stop himself from sighing again, he lifts his gun and shoots two men sat playing poker, “take a wild guess."

“Okay then, if you're so torn up about it then why don't you talk to gav?”

Here’s the thing.

Geoff has had them working double time now that the heat from their last heist has died down, they’re working to set up for another job. This has meant that ryan is working day and night, and any time he enters the penthouse he’s sent out not even ten minutes later for another job, rinse and repeat. If he’s not working, he’s sleeping. Usually, during busy times like these, gavin can be found in his office working god-awful hours until he passes out from pure exhaustion, and ryan had formed a little routine with him (in his head, the party has taken on this monumentous effect, a turning point in his life, so he has dubbed times as BP and AP, as dramatic as he is).

So, in the glorious times of BP, he and gavin would trade off on buying each other meals. On his way in each morning, ryan would buy breakfast at a cafe and drop it off in his office for him, and when gavin would arrive after a nap in his own bed each evening, he would have some type of take-out to send ryan home with. A peak example of  _ Thibault and Kelley _ , ryan always thought, but it worked for them and any meals shared together would only bring them closer.

But, in the not-so-glorious times of AP, they haven't done a meal trade in nearly two weeks - ryan hasnt even  _ seen _ gavin for at least a week, and the last time he tried to drop off a box of pastries the door to gavin’s room was locked. So he left the box outside, and he stopped.

“It’s complicated,” ryan says, simply, “let’s just say i would if i could.”

“There’s nothing stopping you,” there’s the distinct sound of a shotgun blast on michael’s side of the coms, “he’s desperate to talk to you, but you know how it is.”

Ryan does know. He knows the self doubt, the crippling sense of  _ am i good enough? _ The horrible feeling of sitting alone in your home and not knowing if someone else feels the same. He knows.

“Yes, but we’re both very busy,” ryan pulls out his knife just as a man is startled by his voice, digging the blade into his throat and slashing it open, moving on quickly from the still writhing body, “i'm out of the state for a week in two days.”

“So it’s the perfect time to have this conversation with him, dude. Give him that week to think things over, spend time working on yourself and come back a new and more confident man,” he suggests, and ryan can practically see the grin on his face, “we all saw you at the party, when you were dancing with him. That was suave as fuck. Be  _ that _ ryan!”

Walking up a flight of stairs, he rolls his eyes, “that isn't me, though, and if gavin is  _ really _ interested then he’d know that, and he wouldn't be expecting that.”

“It wouldn't hurt, though. That confidence is killer, he’d still love it.”

“But would he love me?” the words escape before he can stop himself, and he wants to punch himself. 

There’s silence on the other side for a few moments before michael says, voice uncharacteristically gentle, “yeah, he would.”

It’s silent for the rest of the job.

\--

Ryan arrives back at the penthouse alone; he dropped michael back at his own apartment and decided to do the briefing alone, wanting to let the other man at least have a shower and an hour or two of sleep.

He walks through the main door and hangs his jacket up, dropping the keys to his car into the little wooden bowl on the floor (they  _ did _ have a cabinet there once, but jeremy decided to get drunk with the other lads and fell through it. He blames it on the shoddy Ikea manufacturing, and he’s not wrong, but everyone still blames him) before walking into the kitchen. It’s late, nearly 8pm, and he’s carrying a bag of take out.

The kitchen is empty, and if he listens close enough he can hear music coming from gavin’s room. He looks into the bag and hesitates before making two coffees and grabbing two forks, then taking the bag in hand and walking into the hallway. 

His own door is open, he normally leaves it open whenever he’s on a job so that people know he isn't in, and michael’s is too, but the rest of them are closed. He walks over to gavin’s door, looks at the knicks and dents in the wood, and he freezes up. 

What if gavin doesn't want to see him? What if he’s not even in there? What if gavin  _ hates _ him?

He knocks on the door.

There's no reply from inside, and ryan’s stomach flips a little before he tries the handle. The door’s unlocked, and when ryan steps in his heart flutters a little. Gavin’s asleep, his face on the desk and the monitor off; there’s a small frown on his face, too, and ryan sighs gently. He puts one of the boxes of food on the desk along with a cup of coffee, and carefully takes one of the  _ many _ blankets from the bed, draping it over gavin’s shoulders and walking out quietly.

\--

A few hours later, when ryan’s sat in the livingroom on his laptop and michael is in the kitchen, gavin comes out and goes directly to the kitchen.

“Thank you for the food, michael-boi! I didn't know you knew my order,” gavin says, ryan can see him bouncing around on his feet, “i owe you one!”

Ryan raises his brows and looks away with a shrug when michael looks over with a disapproving face, “i didn't...”

Ryan closes his laptop, standing up slowly and walking out, unannounced and unnoticed.

**Author's Note:**

> its my bday tomorrow please Let It End.


End file.
